


Facts and Compromises

by ElnaK



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Complicated Relationships, M/M, Pavlov, Tony Stark: Iron Man #4, Tony Stark: Iron Man (2018), complicated attractions while we're at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 03:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16400603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElnaK/pseuds/ElnaK
Summary: Steve couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Tony might, in fact, be bisexual, but asking about his crush's sexual orientation after so many years was another matter, and there was a lot left unsaid between them that had to get out before they could even think about that.That was, supposing that Tony was, in fact, bisexual.





	Facts and Compromises

**Author's Note:**

> So this started because while I'm aware the usual idea has Tony being blatantly bi and Steve discreetly bi, I kinda like my version of Tony to actually have a more nuanced ( and complicated ) sexuality, which means that I'm totally likely to write him from actually bi to entirely staright but still in a co-dependent and unhealthy platonic relationship with Steve because that's basically canon, while my Steve does tend to be simply bi when he's not in a co-dependent and unhealthy platonic relationship with Tony.  
> Then somehow a big chunk about the discussion they never had post-incursions happened.  
> There's a bit about theoretical sexualities, too, because reasons.
> 
> Mostly Steve is being unable to compromise and Tony is done with his shit, so there's that.
> 
> (I'm gonna reread that note tomorro-wait no today-after I've slept)  
> Edit: If there's a tag you think I should add, tell me and I'll consider it

Steve stood at Tony's door for a moment, unable to actually knock.

Steve Rogers was Captain America, he had punched Hitler, fought the Red Skull a depressing number of times, gone into space to stop alien wars and survived – no one seemed to know how they weren't all dead yet, by the way – the end of the Multiverse, but right now he felt scared and totally willing to let it go and pretend nothing had ever happened if only that meant he didn't have to take a risk and face – maybe, probably, definitely – the worst rejection of his life.

Yes, Captain America was terrified at the idea that Tony Stark might not want of him – which was more than likely, once again, considering that either Tony was in fact entirely straight, as Steve had thought all these years, and thus uninterested, or Tony was really bisexual and equally uninterested, as the fact that he had never told Steve anything in all those years tended to hint towards that conclusion.

Except, now that Steve knew – no, alright, he didn't actually know, but then again Tony had sent invitations to both men and women when flooding Sunset Bain's little app, so this time he could actually suspect instead of just succumbing to wishful thinking – he couldn't get it out of his head.

The idea that, perhaps, Tony was interested in men too – and, in case it wasn't clear enough, the fact that Steve, of all people, fell into that particular category of possible romantic partners, something he had never actually dared to hope for in... what was it, now? Fifteen, sixteen years?

Needless to say Steve would feel pretty stupid if it turned out that yes, he could have asked Tony out eleven years ago, when he had learned who was really under Iron Man's mask.

Still, that would be more than cancelled out by the prospect of being with Tony.

Except Tony had never. Said. A. Thing. Not when they had met for the first time – as Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, not Iron Man and Captain America – and Tony had spent a few evenings a week teaching Steve about the future, either as himself or as Iron Man. Which Steve could understand, what with the hassle of keeping a secret identity. Not when Steve had finally known about his best friend's identity. Which wasn't that surprising considering how little time went by before Tony had his big alcoholic crisis and they hadn't seen each other for months – Steve wasn't particularly proud of the way he had spoken to his friend, back then, because while Tony hadn't wanted help, he was also pretty sure he himself hadn't made getting help sound very tempting, so busy asking why, demanding answers out of him, shoving his responsibilities, all the reasons he should count himself lucky down his throat. Not when they had finally been friends – and actually talked – again, after Onslaught and the second iteration of the Avengers. Which might have had to do with the fact that Tony was still struggling with the consequences of what Kang had made him do and who-knew-what others things he constantly had to face because he was just unlucky like that. Not when...

Okay, that was enough.

Still, a lot of missed opportunities, and never a word spoken.

Not about Steve, and not even about the fact that Tony was – possibly, Steve, you can't forget that yet, possibly – bisexual in general – though Steve'd rather have that hypothetical conversation pertain to him in particular rather than to any other man out there.

In other words, Steve couldn't not think about it.

He just couldn't.

And he also couldn't bring himself to ask, as evidenced by the fact that he was standing before the door to Tony's room and still hadn't knocked.

It had been that way for almost three weeks, now. Whenever both of them were at their new HQ, Steve would go and try to talk to his friend but lose all courage and walk away before he could actually see Tony alone and have no excuse left not to ask the question – not to hear the answer.

He wimped out, his hand falling back against his body, his legs ready to turn around and not wait any longer for something he just wasn't managing to actually do.

The moment Steve actually gave up, though, Tony's door opened and revealed the man – arched eyebrows, unimpressed gaze, mouth thin and displeased.

“You know, Steve, I have motion sensors built into the door frame.”

Steve didn't say anything – couldn't say anything – but his face made a weird, wobbly expression for a moment, before going back to its blushing state – which had come into play the moment his eyes had landed on Tony's neck, the guy was now living part-time at the North Pole and not wearing anything but a t-shirt, what was the matter with him, really? – and he just ended up looking resolutely somewhere behind Tony because he couldn't quite face him right now.

As Steve kept silent and didn't look at him, Tony leaned into the door frame, and added.

“I've had them installed last tuesday, just so you know.”

Which meant he totally knew about Steve lurking at his door without knocking for at least six days.

“I... I should go.”

Tony's face hardened – it happened more and more, as the years went by, as their views drifted apart and they agreed less and less and unlike basically everyone else Tony refused to bow to Steve's bullshit even when it actually wasn't bullshit – but was still somehow polluted by his actual bullshit – and Steve dreaded that one day, once again, Tony would just leave and start his own new team, like he had back then with Force Works.

“You want to say something, Steve, you say it. I know you still haven't forgiven me for our last... disagreement, and believe me when I say I still stand by most of what I did back then, when I say that you were at least as wrong as I was and that your 'virtuous' stance was no more virtuous than mine, considering you were willing to bet the lives of countless people across universes for the benefit of your soul, balancing it all on the vaporous possibility that a freaking miracle would happen and no one would have to stain their hands in blood in order to keep as many people as possible alive. I'm not saying I was perfect and you weren't, but at least I made a choice and didn't pretend it wasn't condemning billions of people for the sole hope of a solution. I least I was honest, and that's the only thing I'm asking of you. Either you think we can still make it work, and you tell me what you want, or you don't want to take the risk, and you say it to my face.”

Steve stared, speechless, as the conversation – it wasn't even a conversation, at this point, it was just... – took a rather violent turn into an entirely different direction than the one he had wanted it to go.

After a moment, unable to actually process it all – and possibly more than grateful that he didn't have to talk about his real problem yet – he just got riled up at the accusations.

“I... I'm not the one who was playing God and deciding who got to live and who had to die!”

Tony shifted against the door frame, his arms now crossed on his chest, and squinted at him.

“No, you were just the one asking us to perform divine miracles and find a perfect solution that wouldn't hurt your sensibility and would still somehow manage to save everyone and everything. You asked us to produce the works of Gods, and got angry when we didn't prove to be omnipotent, something which we had told you at the very beginning. Unlike you, we never pretended we could actually make miracles happen, because we're mere mortals and everything has a cost, and sometimes the cost is so great you can't just shrug it aside, especially not when not acting would be even worse.”

Somehow Steve ended up almost chest-to-chest with Tony, a snarl on his lips and the disturbing thought – considering that they were arguing about the destruction of worlds, it really wasn't the moment – that Tony's looked inviting even when they were a mere line of anger on his beautiful face creeping back into his brain.

“You were planning to blow up planets!”

Tony didn't flinch – he almost never did, he always stood his ground no matter what atrocity Steve could spit in his face, where others backed away and looked apologetic and tried to make him believe they were sorry, even when they actually weren't.

“We weren't, and as a matter of fact, we never did unless the other Earth was already dead. After you started working with him again, Steve, did you ever ask Reed what we, the 'Illuminati', had actually done after your forced depart, or did you just assume that we'd murdered worlds left and right? I'm not saying that we don't have a responsibility in what the Cabal did, because we did make the bombs they used after Namor overrode the general decision that we couldn't, in fact, kill a world, not even for the hope of a solution, but if we hadn't, Steve, we'd all have died during the third incursion, when we encoutered an Earth that was completely barren. We'd all have died back then if we'd listened to you, and we'd have died for nothing.”

Steve gulped, but didn't deny that he hadn't, in fact, asked Richards. That he hadn't wanted to know – and sometimes he thought it was because he couldn't have dealt with the knowledge that they had done it, but sometimes he also wondered if it wasn't because he wouldn't have known what to do with the knowledge that they hadn't.

Tony looked him in the eyes, unrepentant – at least about this, because God knew how many things Tony regretted in his life.

“Your refusal to even make one bomb, Steve, would have cost the lives of two universes, and it would have been your fault.”

Still, there were so many other things he could blame Tony for – and the Illuminati in general, but it wasn't the point here, it was never the point when it came to Tony, the point was that Tony hadn't believed in him, that he didn't believe in him, not now, not ever – and Tony himself had just brought one back on the table.

“So what, you couldn't have convinced me of that, you just had to erase my memories and pretend nothing had happened, make the Avengers bigger than ever to keep me occupied, just because you couldn't be bothered with giving me a second chance?”

There was a moment of silence, during which Tony just looked at him calculatingly, as if weighing the pros and the cons of saying what he had in mind.

Finally, the man snorted – weirdly, however, Steve felt like it wasn't mocking, or at least, it wasn't mocking towards Steve, but rather towards the situation, perhaps towards Tony himself.

“Now you're complaining that we didn't give you a second chance after the Infinity Gauntlet broke, which, since we're on the topic, was in no way your fault, no matter what Namor said, I can tell you because we saw it happen again and again across the Multiverse when we were looking for solutions. But let me ask you one thing, Steve: how can you claim a second chance when you, yourself, never gave us a first chance? Are you so much better than T'Challa, Stephen, Namor, Reed, Blackbolt, Beast and I, that you deserve more chances than you would grant us?”

This time, Steve stumbled back a step, taken aback and unable to answer, only to ask:

“Wh... What are you talking about? I didn't...”

Tony straightened and took a step to be once again only a few inches away from him, like before.

“'I know you people. You're going to build a machine or some kind of weapon without thinking if you should – just because you might need it. And then the debate will turn from should we build this, to under what doomsday scenarii is it acceptable to use the thing. And then, one by one, you'll convince yourselves. We're doing this for the right reasons. There's no other choice. It's the less of two evils. Isn't that right, Brother?'”

But this hadn't been about... It wasn't the same thing.

“Do you remember these words, Steve? Because I do, and I don't have a perfect memory like you. I remember them, because I've thought about them hundreds of times as time ran out and we were no closer to an actual solution and you were out there being a righteous asshole who couldn't even give us the benefit of the doubt, who hadn't been able to consider that, perhaps, we might actually not use the damn thing, which we didn't, not as a group, and even Namor only did it because he had lost everything and his reasons to live and care. You didn't give us a first chance, Steve, so why the hell would you have expected us to give you a second one?”

Steve gritted his teeth.

“It was about you blowing up planets.”

He wasn't going to lose his calm – this wasn't what he had been coming to Tony to talk about, damn it! – but at the same time, he had to admit that they couldn't actually go on – especially not with the kind of relationship he had in mind, should Tony actually be interested – if they didn't, at least, vent it out and make their grievances known.

Tony turned around and went back into his room – suite, whatever, they all had freaking suites now, Steve almost felt like he was back in the mansion except everything was cold, they were in the space armor of a deceased celestial, and it wasn't Tony's home which was a very important point he wasn't sure he actually liked – but didn't close the door behind him. Steve hesitated, unsure of what to do, and Tony shrugged as if to tell him to come in, so he did just that.

The door closed behind him, and somehow they both ended up sitting on Tony's bed – though one meter apart.

“You keep saying that, Steve, but you never mention how it was also about you being either alright with sacrificing universes for the sake of your soul, which, I might add, isn't quite what I'd consider keeping your soul clean, or so naive that you thought we could make miracles and not pay a price.”

Steve didn't really know what to say to that, so he just ended up looking miserable with his hands on his knees.

“...I just thought you should have at least tried to convince me, instead of mindwiping me.”

Tony sighed.

“And at what price would that conviction have come, Steve? At the price of dumbly agreeing with you no matter how irrealistic you were being? At the price of having you stand next to us when the third incursion happened and we couldn't do a thing because we didn't have a bomb and we were going to die for absolutely nothing because of you? Or maybe at the price of lying to you, of telling you we wouldn't make bombs and then do it in your back?”

“You still lied to me, though.”

“Yeah, we did. Except, at least that way we didn't have to endanger our endeavor by risking you finding out anyway and compromising everything. I'm sorry, Steve, but no matter how much it costs me, not matter how miserable it makes me, or even you, I'm not going to endanger the future just to spare your feelings. If I have to sacrifice something, I'd rather sacrifice our friendship than your life and the general well-being of the Multiverse.”

Steve could say nothing against that – not that he agreed with Tony's conclusion that he had been doing the right thing, but he couldn't deny that for everything else, it made sense, no matter how much it hurt, no matter that he didn't like it – so he just made an incomprehensible sound of distress and kind of ended up in a fetal position on Tony's bed – not that he would admit it to anyone else, just like he didn't tell people that when he was depressed he slept with the American Flag in his bed.

A moment later, a hesitant hand was on his arm, and Tony was lying next to him, looking apologetic – but not for what really upset Steve, just that it did upset Steve.

“Listen, I'm not saying you were entirely wrong or that we were entirely right, just that there are some things none of us could agree on with you, and that we made a call knowing full well what it entailed. Was it the right call? I can't say for sure, but at least we made it, and unlike what you thought we'd do, we stuck by it. We made a bomb in case we needed it, and we used it only when it was acceptable, when the other Earth was already barren, and the one time it wasn't the case we did not, we could not use it. And sure, some of the things we did weren't right, and we're partly responsible for some other things that shouldn't have been done, but at the same time it wasn't like there was an alternative that was better. Forget the lesser of two evils, because we can't really know which one it ever is, but it doesn't change the fact that in the end, there were two evils, and no good solutions that were available to us. So yes, we made a choice, and it had consequences. But you can't, and I won't allow you to pretend that your own choice had no consequences at all. If you do, there's no point trying to make this work.”

Steve said nothing to actually agree with Tony, but he also didn't say anything to disagree, so it had to mean something, it had to be worth something.

He hoped it was worth something.

After a time during which they just stayed there, motionless – and staring at each other, but let's not talk about that, okay – Tony stood back up and went to stand next to a painting that Steve suspected to depict Tony's mother, considering how it always somehow ended up in whatever room Tony occupied the most at the moment and yet he never spoke about it. Had there been a window, he'd have probably been there instead, but the new HQ wasn't big on windows for obvious reasons.

“I guess there's more we need to talk about, but let's be done for tonight, alright?”

It seemed obvious to Steve that it was Tony's way to say he didn't want to argue more, except the supersoldier was now remembering that this wasn't, actually, what he had come here to talk about, and he bolted off Tony's bed – what had he been thinking, dear God, lying on Tony's bed when he wanted to have that conversation?

Steve took a deep breath, couldn't manage to find the words – again – and ended up fidgetting when Tony looked back at him with an eyebrow raised – probably wondering why he was still here.

“Not that I don't want you in my room, Steve, but I'm pretty sure you have your own quarters.”

Steve forced himself still, and focused his sight on his friend's nose – which was way better than to have to look him in the eyes right now.

“Actually, I... I wanted to talk to you about something. I mean, something other than this.”

Head tilted to the side, Tony reached for an armchair, brought it to him, and sat down, looking tentatively cautious about whatever this would turn out to be.

Steve stayed resolutely standing, even if it meant looking at the wall instead of at Tony.

“...Okay.”

No turning back now.

“I've been thinking about... Well, you know what happened with Sunset Bain and her dating app.”

“As it turns out, Steve, I was even there when it happened. I mean, it was just Stark Unlimited that was targetted, no big deal, not like it's my company or anything.”

Steve almost snarked back at him to take him seriously, but the fact that the conversation suddenly had a lighter tone – after the last exchanges, it was a wonder – made him feel slightly more comfortable.

“I'm just trying to set the conversation in its rightful circumstances, Tony.”

“Of course you are.”

“Anyway, I... I just wanted to talk about the account you opened on the app.”

Tony frowned, looking absolutely unsure of what had brought this on and why exactly his fake dating account was so important to Steve.

“Uh... Okay?”

So it turned out Steve wasn't quite as assured in his questioning than he'd have liked to be, and he wasn't so sure a direct approach was the best idea anymore. Still, instead of backpedalling – way to go, Captain America, bravest of the braves – Steve decided to simply adjust his strategy to sound like a concerned friend. To, uh, test the waters.

“I... saw you checked both the options for your... interest in partners. And I... I thought maybe you wanted to talk about it.”

Tony didn't answer right away, just looked at him weirdly for a long time, before making a face – and it really, really made Steve feel uncomfortable that he wasn't able to tell exactly what face it was, what it meant.

“Actually, I checked all the options, but, uh, how do I say that... I'm not... pansexual, I guess that's the word, right? I created the account at the very moment I decided I was going to take care of the situation this way, and so I checked all the options because I needed as many people as possible to answer to my invitations in order to be absolutely certain the app would crash, and it's not like there's anything to be ashamed of if you're actually pan. From where I stand, risking Sunset's defeat over a need not to include everyone because of my sexuality... That would have been homophobic, biphobic, _et caetera_. And irresponsible towards my employees, at that. ...Or, I guess, it could have also been because I'm not at ease with my sexuality or the public eye, which we both know not to be the case, so, no.”

Something crawled and died inside Steve's stomach, but he managed to only let a confused look appear on his face, instead of suffocating himself with one of Tony's pillow.

“You mean... You weren't coming out or something?”

Tony winced a bit, and leaned back into his armchair.

“I'm afraid I'm straight as a ruler.”

“Oh. I... I was wondering why you'd never said anything to me.”

Tony's head whipped around to look Steve dead in the eyes, and the supersoldier refrained from gulping, afraid he'd let out too much.

“I mean, you know I wouldn't judge, right?”

Tony seemed to relax, but at the same time there was a calculating look to his gaze, as if he was considering something – and Steve didn't know what for sure, but if it was what he thought he was going to end up crying in his room, so he had to come up with more, with a better way to make it look like it was just him being a concerned friend.

“I mean, I thought... Sometimes, you had some friends... Male friends, I mean, and I thought you might, maybe, but you never said anything, and...”

“This is about Tiberius Stone, right?”

Steve winced, but at least Tony hadn't said anything about the fact that his closeness with Tiberius Stone back when they were teenagers – from what he had told Steve, at least – was nothing compared to their own closeness and the fact that sometimes, Steve had thought...

“And Henry Hellrung.”

He had to admit, he'd wondered about that too, even if it sounded a bit too trashy, a bit too much like something out of a gossip rag – which, now that Steve thought about it... It had come from a gossip rag...

It got Tony to laugh, though, and the soft ringing of his voice brought half a smile to Steve's lips.

“Yeah, I've been asked that one a lot, but no, seriously, I might know I'm good-looking but that doesn't mean I'm actually narcissistic. I guess you could say, I'm just not my type.”

Steve stopped himself from blurting out that it didn't matter, because Tony definitely was his type, but it was a near thing.

“Though, about Tiberius... I never thought about him like that, it was just me being clingy with my first-ever friend my age, and later trying not to act like a paranoid asshole who doubts everyone around him. For the good it did me.”

“I... I guess people tend to forget you don't have that many friends.”

Just like they tended to forget that Tony's money didn't mean he couldn't suffer like everyone else.

Tony waved a terrible finger at him, mock outrage on his face.

“Eh, keep it quiet, Mister, I'll have you know I have a lot of friends.”

Steve thought about all the people in the Avengers, all the acquaintances Tony made, but who wouldn't – who hadn't, and he was ashamed to think he was one of them occasionally – believe in him most of the time, who accepted his money and every other benefits that came from being “friends” with Tony Stark but somehow always ended up leaving him behind whenever things got rough.

He thought about the accusations from earlier, about the fact that Steve himself hadn't given him the benefit of the doubt but had demanded his absolute trust and compliance to his own rules.

“Your friends don't tend to stick by you, do they?”

Not all the time, at least.

And perhaps occasionally they were right not to, but they still ended up saying things about Tony, betraying his trust and his secrets, when it wasn't necessary, when it wasn't warranted, and most of the time, they didn't even apologize afterwards, not for that, not for anything.

Steve thought of Carol, who was somewhere in the HQ too right now, and who had outright refused to say a word of apology about having put Tony in a coma, even threatening him – jokingly or not, it didn't matter, not this time, not with the past behind them – to do it again when she didn't like what he was saying – and it didn't matter that she wasn't entirely responsible for all that had happened, it didn't matter at all, because she had made her choices, and it had ended up with Tony in a coma, and the least she could do was apologizing for that, if not for anything else. He thought of how Tony obviously – to Steve only, because other people just assumed, as always, that he was an asshole and that was it – didn't know how to deal with her right now, how he kept making idiotic jokes about making up and making out that were entirely out of character for him, and that he would never have said to anyone who had made it clear it made them uncomfortable, let alone to a friend, because he couldn't deal with Carol's absolute refusal to see what she had done wrong and because, even then, Tony never backed down – not for his own sake, at least – because he wasn't afraid and would show it.

Steve thought of himself, with his shield smashing Tony's faceplate until it was in pieces and Tony was bleeding, of how he had never said how sorry he was – at least for that, it should never had ended like that, it wasn't supposed to be like that – how he had never apologized, not to Tony, and how Tony had never said anything because he'd had to wipe his own brain of the entire year during which it had happened.

It was something they would have had to talk about, if Tony had been...

But he wasn't, and that wasn't anyone fault, and Steve should still say something, because whether or not they were in a relationship, it still wasn't right that he got to pretend he'd never done anything wrong, not with everything he always accused Tony of.

Tony's answer was quiet, and he almost missed it.

“I guess they don't, do they?”

Then he just changed the subject, and Steve guessed that was all for this question, that Tony had every right to turn the conversation around and not dwell on the fact that no one had ever not let him down – he probably thought it was normal, at that, that it was to be expected, and somehow Steve couldn't use anything in his experience of Tony's life to argue that it wasn't.

“Anyway, Tiberius. I want to say, because I never saw him like that, it doesn't mean he himself didn't see me like that. I mean, I always knew the guy was bisexual, I just hadn't caught on that I qualified as attractive to him, not until he somehow trapped me in a dream-like world of my subconscious, except, as the asshole he was, he had control over part of it too and somehow materialized himself into it on some sort of throne with sex-slaves of both sexes around him, which, uh, was enlightening as to how exactly he pictured himself in regards to me.”

Steve made a face.

“You mean he had a boner for you.”

“About the size of the Empire State Building, yeah. And he'd have liked me to be right by his feet, naked and with a tech collar, because he also had some sociopathic tendencies and no respect for people's mental boundaries. I mean, come on, Steve, if you had access to his DreamVision like him, would you materialize yourself into my dreams as some harem sex king without my consent?”

Seve didn't really know what to answer to that, because while he wouldn't have quite done it that way – especially not the part about the lack of consent – he couldn't say the general idea – being a sex king in Tony's dreams – didn't have some appeal.

Or, he could, but that would be a lie.

As everyone knew, Captain America didn't lie.

“Not really, no.”

Apparently Captain America did lie.

He was feeling pretty miserable, right now, and it had nothing to do with the lie. Just, you know, with the fact that he had suddenly had hope about his hopeless and decade-old crush – and his own boner “about the size of the Empire State Building”, but that was another story and frankly not the one that made him feel like shit right now – on Tony but it had all turned out exactly like he'd feared – Tony just wasn't interested.

“I... I guess I'll see myself out, then. Sorry for... For having assumed.”

“It's alright. I'd say you couldn't know I was straight, but it was actually very obvious so I won't. I'll just say, you don't have to have an excuse to come and talk to me, Steve.”

It really wasn't alright, but he couldn't say that, could he? Not without explaining to Tony why it wasn't, and there was no way, no way he would tell him. Not now, not ever.

Steve miserably – and he hoped he was hiding it well enough, he really did, because Tony was observant most of the time and there was no hiding that from him – walked to the door, mumbled a goodbye to Tony, and pushed on the handle.

Tony's voice stopped him.

“However...”

Steve couldn't move, as if he was back in the ice.

“...should there be more to your presence here than you said, Steve...”

He wasn't trembling, his hand wasn't shaking on the handle, and no tremors were making him feel like he could crumble right here, right then. But it was only because he had a good control over his body, because he didn't want to shake as Tony spoke, as he heard the slow footsteps of his friend who was making his way over to the door, to him.

He didn't crush the door handle when Tony stopped, barely a foot away, just behind Steve. He could feel his body heat.

“I... I want to say, sexuality isn't exactly... Sexual attraction and romantic attraction aren't necessarily the same, and, more than that, you can be in love with someone who's not sexually attractive to you.”

Steve wasn't moving. At all.

It had to be suspicious, but at that point, he didn't care.

Almost.

“I don't... I don't know what you're talking about.”

Tony's hand fell on his arm – again, how often did they do that, how come he had never noticed all the touches, or rather, how come he hadn't realized that Tony too had noticed?

“I could be wrong, but... You're not acting like this was just to make sure I was comfortable with what transpired with Sunset's app. So I'm... wondering if, maybe, you were hoping for another answer, Steve.”

Steve gnashed his teeth and let go of the door handle, turning around to face Tony again.

Still, he stubbornly refused to meet his eyes.

“Even if I was, it wouldn't matter, would it? You're straight, and I don't think either of us could settle for an asexual relationship.”

There. He had all but said it.

Tony made a face and didn't deny it, but still didn't back away. Steve had to wonder, what exactly was he hoping to achieve here? It was obvious they couldn't make it work, no matter what.

To be truthful, Steve would have taken even an asexual relationship, if only to be with Tony, and he wasn't sure Tony himself wouldn't have wanted to at least try, if what he was saying about his feelings was true, because Tony would one day end up offering his heart on a literal platter if only it'd make someone happy – not a supervillain, though, because there had to be a limit and many of those would actually be delighted to get Tony Stark's heart on a platter just because it'd mean he would be dead. Except Steve had seen how miserable Tony had been back when he had had the chestplate, back when he couldn't be intimate with anyone – four long years, if he did the math right – and while it had been far from the only reason for his misery, it was still one of these, and it just wasn't an option.

“Yeah, about that... I don't think 'being straight' means exactly what you think.”

Steve couldn't stop himself from giving Tony a look, the one that said it wasn't something to fuck around with, and that if Tony was actually bisexual but didn't want to say it out loud it was a little late to mention it, after the whole conversation from earlier.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm not finished. So, yeah, once again, I'm straight. But there are at least two ways to be straight, and everyone just assumes it's only the first one most of the time. I mean, sure, there are straight people out there who are just right out disgusted with seeing the genitals of someone of the same sex, but that's not the only way. You can... I guess you can compare it to asexuality. Some asexuals are downright against sex, and some others don't really care, and others even enjoy having sex with their loved one, as long as their loved one enjoy it.”

“Tony, you're not asexual.”

Steve's friend gave him a smile filled with sarcasm.

“Thanks, I hadn't noticed. Let me finish, would you. What I mean is, asexuals basically are asexual because they don't have a sexual attraction to anyone, not because they're disgusted by sex. Some are, but not all of them. Now, being straight, or gay for the matter, it's basically the same thing, except you don't have a sexual attraction to a specific sex, whereas you are attracted to the other one. And, no, Steve, don't roll your eyes, I'm being serious here, I'm even trying to get you laid, so shut up, thank you. What I mean is, because you're not attracted to someone's body doesn't mean you can't enjoy having sex with them. I mean, take Whitney, for example...”

“Madam Mask? Really?”

“Oh, don't start. And yeah, that Whitney. Sure, I was attracted to her body, but I wasn't particularly a big fan of her scars, of the fact that she was disfigured. It didn't turn me on. Still, it didn't matter, because I was in love, and I wasn't disgusted by it for all that. We had no problem having sex, believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

Tony squinted, but didn't comment on that particular slight from Steve. While the genius had never denied that Whitney Frost had gone back to a life of crime and he wasn't happy about it, he had also occasionally been glacial, so to say, to people who mocked their old relationship or the fact that she hid her scarred face behind a mask. Steve guessed that had to do both with the fact that no one deserved that – it didn't matter that they were a villain or not – and with the way people always ended up assuming Tony was shallow when, really, he appreciated a beautiful woman, but he could also appreciate one who was less beautiful.

Still, it was Steve's love life they were talking about, he didn't really want to have Whitney Frost, one of Tony's exes, thrown in the middle of the conversation.

“Anyway, what I mean is, I'm not repulsed by male genitals, as evidenced by the fact that I'm totally good with having threesomes with a man and a woman as long as rules have been put down and we actually stick by these. Well, facts are, I can rarely do that, mostly because it's surprisingly, note the sarcasm, harder to find men who I can trust not to go and start saying nonsense everywhere about my sex life than it is to find such women. Mostly it's not worth the hassle.”

Steve grabbed Tony's wrists, as if to keep him at a distance, because he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“So, what, you want us to have sex just because I would enjoy it, even though it doesn't turn you on to think about it? I... I can't ask that of you, Tony!”

Tony's face hardened, and he shook himself free of Steve's grasp, took a step back.

“I'm offering, Steve. I'm not forcing myself or anything, and while, true, I don't get a hard-on from thinking about your dick, it doesn't mean my body isn't set more or less the same way as any other male's around here. There's no reason why I wouldn't enjoy being touched in some places like anyone else, and if we have to train me appreciate it more so that it ends up being worth the effort, then so be it. I have no problem using my appreciation of the facts that you would like it and that my body doesn't react badly to touch from a man to train my dick into being happy to see you, even if it's just you, and not any other man.”

This time, it was Steve who took a step back, even more shocked than before.

“You... You want me to condition you into liking sex with me.”

He saw Tony's jaw clenching, and wasn't really surprised when his friend covered back the distance between them with one long step. Tony mostly thrived in adversity, in proving people wrong, in keeping his stance no matter how people treated him for it – he also suffered for it, often, too often, because it was uncessant, because people kept trying to push him around, always harder, and at some point even him couldn't keep up.

“Call it pavlovian if you want, Steve, it doesn't matter, because I'm fucking offering, because almost everything in life is conditioned, and if you like strawberries but don't adore them at first, you can still end up eating some often enough just because you got used to it and learned to appreciate them. As long as you don't eat only strawberries, it's alright, it's normal, and damnit, Steve, I'm offering, why can't that be enough for you?! Why isn't anything I offer ever enough for you, Steve?!?”

The supersoldier almost screamed back, but didn't back away again.

“Because I don't want you to sacrifice yourself just for me to feel better!”

That, too, was a discussion they needed to have one of these days – and not only about sex.

Tony squinted at him, his jaw set back into its stubborn shape – yes, it had one – and he decided to turn away for now, to leave Steve to his decision, whatever it would be – he himself wasn't sure.

He just added this, as he started saving whatever paperwork he had been doing on his computer when Steve had arrived:

“Everything is a compromise, Steve, relationships included. I give you something, and you give me something back. Turns out, I can't offer you more than that, because I just can't, because I don't have more, so now it's your turn. Me, at least, I'm trying. The question, I guess, is whether or not you are willing to meet me in the middle.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I leave the final decision to your imagination


End file.
